The Ocean's Many Faces: Roguish Rapids
by Egyptain Demi-Witch
Summary: 'The sea has many moods, many faces. This is mirrored by its children greatly.' When one Wylie Potter sneaks aboard the Dursley's cruise to the Big Apple, her life changes forever. Watch as this tricky river winds through life, leaving chaos in its wake. Fem! Harry, inspired by E4E's UFS.
1. A Change

Green eyes glinted from the shadows, framed by black hair. Well, here she was! New York, the Big Apple. Sighing, she squared her shoulders.  
"Goodbye, old me." She said softly, her voice revealing its British accent. Throwing one last glance at the cruise ship that had brought her there, she ran. As her feet hit the ground, she reviewed the past week. She could still remember the day she left. Seven days ago, her uncle, a fat man with a walrus-like mustache, had announced to her aunt and cousin that he had gotten them tickets for a cruise to America. She gave a shudder at the memory of her 'family.' Her uncle, who threw her in her cramped, claustrophobia-inducing cupboard. Her horse necked aunt who made her complete all the chores and breakfast, and her cousin who chased her around and beat her up. She had known it was her chance to get away, if only for a little while. So, she snuck along. The six day cruise had been some of the best days of her life. Fishing, swimming, and talking with other children with her cousin running them off! When the ship docked, she had pitched head first over the railing. She could recall perfectly what happened next...

 **~Flashback~**

 _Wylie Potter was not enjoying her free fall! She had been leaning over the railing when the ship hit one side of the dock, and had tumbled into the river below. The first thing she noticed was that she was breathing. Underwater. Then, a rainbow horse appeared. Well, it was a horse on the top. The bottom was that of a fish. Riding on its back was the most beautiful woman Wylie had ever seen. Black hair rippled as though it were part of the water itself, and sea green eyes were set in a face with flawless ivory skin. Wylie stumbled backwards.  
_ " _Calm, child. I merely bring your father's gifts." Wylie frowned.  
_ " _My father is dead. He-he died in a car accident." She whispered.  
_ " _No, young hero. Your father is alive, and I serve his court. Your step-father and mother were the ones who were murdered." Wylie couldn't understand what the woman was saying. Her father was alive, lived in a court, and her mother and step-father were murdered?  
_ " _What's going on?" Wylie stuttered bemusedly. The woman smiled gently at her, sighing,  
_ " _Your father is the Lord of the Sea, Poseidon." Yeah, okay,_ now _it was time to freak out. Wylie always liked hearing the Greek myths at the library, but them being real? Panic alert much?! The water woman continued,  
_ " _Godly law says that a god cannot raise their own child, but know your father loves you. He sent this." Hope bubbled in Wylie's heart. The woman held out a hand, and a small object floated towards Wylie. A blue string was threaded through a iridescent pearl.  
_ " _It will serve you well. You must survive." Wylie's head jerked up, her attention snapping back to the water woman.  
_ " _What do you mean, survive?" Wylie asked, despite feeling as though she knew the answer. The woman smiled sadly, quietly saying,  
_ " _The monsters are as alive as we are, child. They will hunt you, try to kill you. You must survive. We believe in you." Then she disappeared. With the woman's words ringing in her mind, Wylie realized that she had to go, then and there. So she swam to the surface and ran away. And she knew, right then, she was never going back._

 **~Flashback~**

Now, two days later, on her eighth birthday too, she was pinned to the base of a tree by a humanoid woman with snake trunks for legs. Just as the curved blade came down, Wylie heard a voice yell,  
" _Murus ignis_!" Flames blasted from the ground underneath the snake woman. When they died down, gold dust was all that remained, floating down onto Wylie's face. A few feet away, a girl her age stood with her hand outstretched. A twelve or thirteen year old boy stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder. Wylie closed her eyes and groaned. Just what she needed. When she opened her eyes again, the boy was kneeling in front of her. She studied him. He had warm brown eyes, and blonde curls.  
"You okay, kiddo?" He asked quietly. Wylie snorted. "All right, all right. Just checking. You smell like half blood." Wylie raised an eyebrow.  
"Well it's kinda a side effect of not showering for-" He laughed and waved a hand. By this time, the girl had come over. "No, I'm a satyr. I can smell half-bloods and monsters." Wylie jumped to her feet.  
"Well then," She declared, bowing low. She looked up and grinned roguishly. "Wylie Potter, daughter of Poseidon, at your service." The satyr staggered backwards, staring at her. Then, he glared at the girl beside him. A few inches taller than Wylie, she had dark skin. Tight, black curls were pulled into ponytails with big black bows. Her black eyes glinted with energy.  
"I told you." She shrugged, then turned to Wylie. Inclining her head, she said,  
"Onyx Declan." She was the one who had shouted. The boy rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand.  
"I'm Aaron." Wylie shook it. "Onyx here is a daughter of Hecate. There's a safe haven for demigods I'm taking her to. You want to come too?" Wylie nodded enthusiastically, smiling widely. Onyx held out two identical daggers.  
"I am assuming these are yours?" She questioned. Wylie inspected them. Their bronze blades glowed in the dim light. The hilts and pommels were coral in look, and the latter had vaguely heart shaped pearls set in them. The grips were wrapped in blue leather. Wylie took them and held them in her hands. Blue blurs raced up her arms. They solidified into the necklace from her father. She grinned at her new companions.  
"What we waitin' for?"

Aaron cursed in what Wylie assumed was Greek as he counted change.  
"Aaron?" Onyx asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was clear there was tenderness between them, though it didn't show often. Aaron sighed.  
"Only two dollars. Subway fare for one is 2.67." The small group fell silent. Suddenly, Onyx spoke up.  
"Change or cash?" Aaron looked at her in surprise.  
"Change."  
"I can get us on." Aaron raised an eyebrow.  
"How?" Wylie asked. "There's three of us." Onyx smiled and gestured at their shortest member.  
"Wylie and I are under forty four inches."  
"That's with a fare paying adult." Aaron said. Onyx smirked. _That's going send chills up one's spine in a few years,_ Wylie thought. Onyx reached into her silver vest and threw a card onto the ground. It twisted and formed into a elderly man with a blank look on his face.  
"One fare paying adult. Plus-" She cut her older friend off with a raised hand. "He's over sixty five. That cuts fare down to $1.35." She held up the other hand, and white wisps danced through her fingers. "I can control the Mist too, to make you look shorter for just long enough." Silence reigned for a few moments before Aaron threw his wallet at her.  
"Knock yourself out, Nyx."

The subway trip went without any non-mortal incident. Mortal was a different and long story. Finally, they got off at their station. Almost instantly, a roar echoed from behind them. Aaron yelped.  
"Go, go, go!" He yelled. Wylie glanced behind them, and stuck her tongue out at the monster. It roared again, and Wylie shrieked, running faster. It was probably at least six feet tall, though it looked smaller from there. Bright green snakes writhed around its head, and they were _not_ saying nice things. Tusk, talon, and wing sliced audibly through the air.  
"Gor-"  
"Don't say it!" Wylie could see a large red house in the distance. They were almost there, but the gorgon was gaining. Just as Aaron and Onyx passed the boundaries, Wylie felt a searing pain in her back. She heard a frantic yell. Then, her sight went black.


	2. Waking Up

**I'm back! So, reviews:**

 **loretta537: 1) I love your name, and 2) Thank you so so much! I hope you think so.**

 **Acolyte Of The Blood Moon: Thank you! It truly means a lot!**

 **harryislife: Okay, your name is amazing, and totally true. Also, don't worry! :) I'm not going to combine them. Wylie will have a ton of fun messing around with her little brother. ;)**

 **Thanks from the bottom of my heart to all who Favorited and Followed! You have no idea how much it means to me, someone who thinks she is a _horrible_ writer, to have too of both to count! Thank you so much!**

When Wylie finally came around, the sun was in the center of the sky. She was lying in a chair on a porch that overlooked a beautiful valley. Shifting slightly, she felt bandages wrapped around her torso. Wylie tried to sit up, only to have someone press a knuckle into her shoulder.  
"Take it easy there, little MOA."  
"What?" Wylie slurred.  
"You're wounded, and MOA stands for Miss Over Achiever. Fitting for you." Wylie finally recognized the voice.  
"Aaron?" She questioned, looking up at the saytr. He smiled at her. Holding out a tall blue glass, he brushed strands of hair out of her face. Wylie weakly curled her fingers around it. Startled, she recoiled at the taste. She had only tasted that once, on the cruise.  
"Tastes like truffles." She murmured. Aaron smiled, quietly saying,  
"It's nectar. Tastes like good memories. If you're ready, I can show the camp." Wylie nodded. Finishing off the nectar, Wylie stood with Aaron's help, and followed him out.

"Whoa." Aaron chuckled.  
"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, the demigod's only safe haven and paradise." He told her. "And your new home, if you wish." Wylie's jaw snapped closed as she hissed,  
"Are you nuts? I'm going to love it here." Indeed, the camp was amazing. The meadow lead up to the ocean for miles. Greek looking structures dotted the landscape. Kids in bright orange shirts played volleyball, canoed, chased each other, practiced archery, and rode winged horses. Aaron then took her around the camp. He was showing her the climbing walls, complete with lava and falling rocks, when Onyx came running up to them.  
"Hiya, Wye!" She called brightly. "You're awake!"  
"Yeah. So glad you noticed." Wylie drawled. Onyx flushed, but winked, signaling she had understood it was in fun.  
"Aaron, guess what! Guess what, guess what, guess what!" Aaron opened his mouth to reply, but Onyx continued before he could. "Mom claimed me! I'm officially a daughter of Hecate!"  
"I didn't know there was ever doubt of that." Aaron chuckled at his young friend.  
"Nyx, come on! You do want to learn this, don't you?" A girl called. She and the girl beside her had deathly pale skin and blond hair. They both looked to be the exact opposite of Onyx, except one trait: Their eyes. All three had the same endless black irises. Onyx looked apologetic. Aaron just shook his head and smiled. Onyx ran off to her sisters. Suddenly, the low bellow of a conch shell rang out.  
"Lunch time, Little MOA." Wylie groaned,  
"You're going to call me that from now on, aren't you."  
"Yes." Wylie moaned. As they reached the mess hall, Aaron gripped her shoulder tightly.  
"Sit with Cabin Eleven, Wye. You'll know it when you see it." Flummoxed, Wylie nodded. Entering the pavilion, she saw a table that was completely overcrowded. Recalling what Aaron had said about the Hermes cabin taking all unclaimed campers, she plopped onto the edge of the table, narrowly missing a older boy's plate. Ignoring his indignant cry, she snatched up a plate of her own, loaded it up, and bounded off to the fire. She scraped part of her meal into the pyre, then glanced back at the Eleventh Cabin. The majority was laughing at the flushing boy. Guilt flashed through her. She hadn't meant to make them tease him, just to make an entrance. Setting her plate down, she snuck over. Most of the jabs were good natured, but she could see a few were purposely upsetting the boy. She scowled. She had spent her life being bullied, and she hated it and its perpetrators. Wylie grabbed the backs of two's shirts and banged their heads together. She jumped onto the table and stormed down it. In quick secession, everyone pulled their plates and other belongings out of the way of her boots. She caught the last bully by her collar and very calmly said,  
"Do not fail to distinguish your feelings of inadequacy from the entitlement to tyrannize others, Jemma." Wylie didn't know most of those words, but she knew the gist of the phrase's meaning. The girl's eyes widened.  
"Got it?!" Wylie snarled, unable to contain her anger any longer. Jemma nodded frantically. "Good." Wylie shoved the girl away and stood up. Jumping off the table, she held her hand out the boy whose food she'd almost sat on.  
"I'm right sorry 'bout that." She said. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm Wylie." Shaking her hand, he grinned at her.  
"No problem. I'm Lee, and those three deserved a butt kicking anyway." Wylie smirked. She cast her eyes around the mess hall. Everyone was watching her. _Crap_ , She thought. _This is not the entrance I wanted_. A hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, and Lee laughed,  
"Don't worry. Most are holograms. We're playing a small prank here, and had to be here first to set it up." She smirked at him, eyebrows raised. He shrugged, grinning. Wylie sat back to observe the chaos soon to come.

The Athena cabin, as Lee whispered to her, was the first hit. Shrieks sounded as blonde curls turned olive green. Wylie figured out the color change code quickly: Blonde turned green, red to purple, brown to pink, and black turned blue. The kids from Cabin Ten were screaming their heads off, some even going so far as to start yelling, 'My precious!' Wylie rolled her eyes.  
"Prissy princesses."  
"You got that right." Lee snorted. An idea started forming in Wylie's mind. Her lips curled into a smirk.  
"What's up?" Lee asked.  
"Nothing." Wylie lied smoothly. April Fools was going to be amazing. For her at least.

It had been around eight months since Wylie had come to Camp Half-Blood, and she was itching to pull her prank she'd been planning. But she had forced herself to wait until April Fools Day, so the blame could be more evenly distributed. Of course, some would know it was her (cough, cough, Lee), but few others would know for certain.

Finally night fell on March 31st. Wylie threw off her covers, reviewing her plan mentally. Cabins 3, 6, and 12 would have their doors targeted, while 4, 9, and 11 received the pranked soap bars. As for Cabins 5, 7, and 10, they might not want to take showers in the morning. Or any other time, really. Work finished, Wylie crept back to bed and was out like a light.

The next morning, yells of shock rang across the camp. Campers had woken to find themselves pranked badly. The Aphrodite kids were probably the loudest, having jumped in the showers only to come out reeking of chicken soup. Wylie was having trouble not smirking at the chaos.  
"Nice one," Lee muttered as he sat down next to her. "What all you'd do, Wye?" Wylie smiled at her best friend, placing a finger to her lips. Then, she tapped them twice with two fingers before pointing right. _Tell you later_. Lee nodded.  
"Still," He murmured. "Big for your first. Mine wasn't half this." She only shrugged, beaming. Later, Lee caught her behind the Big House.  
"So just what _did_ you do, little miss I've-been-planning-this-since-July?" Wylie laughed.  
"Well, I froze cotton balls to the roofs, walls, or doors of 3, 6, and 12, then I covered all the soap bars in nail polish for 4, 9, and 11, and," Here Wylie grinned. "I attached extra flourishes to the rest's shower heads." Lee raised an eyebrow.  
"That were filled with cubes of chicken soup bullion." She finished, blushing slightly. Lee opened and closed his mouth a few times before simply saying,  
"You're mean sometimes, Wye." That day, Cabin Eleven named her an honorary child of Hermes. And though Wylie didn't know it, her step-father would have been proud.


	3. New Stories, New Friends, New Schools

**Hey guys! Please don't kill me. I am so so sorry for updating so late. So I won't talk too long.  
Reviews:**

 **MaddBlake97: I know. I hate when that happens. It did it again with this chapter, but I think I've fixed it.**

 **god of all: Your name amuses me. I'm not sure why. Anyway, so sorry, but here you go! Thank you so much! I never thought I'd get those types of reviews!**

 **darkworkangel: Did I spell it right? Either way, thank you, and I'm glad you enjoyed!**

The sun had gone down. Wylie, on border patrol, knelt on the second tallest hill. She shared a glance with her partner, a daughter of Iris. The girl was perched in a tree, bow and arrow at the ready. Suddenly, a loud _BOOM!_ echoed through the camp. Wylie raised her eyes to the clouds.

"That's not right," She murmured. "It was perfectly clear fourty-five seconds ago..." Her eyes widened.

"Ruby, get me a report, now!" She yelled.

"Group of four, coming fast!"

"Pursuers?" Ruby nearly fell out of the tree as she screamed,

"H-holy crapity crap crap!" Wylie scowled.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know that monster. Could you elaborate?" Ruby landed on her feet next to the sarcastic daughter of the sea. It had started to rain. She waved her hand, and a small window of light unfolded in front of them. What Wylie saw closed up her throat.

"Definitly crapity crap crap worthy," She whispered. "What did they ever do?" Leading the group was a satyr with curly red hair and a rasta cap. Behind him was a tall black haired girl holding a shield torwards the ground. Bands and buttons alike rattled on her arms and coat as she ran. Though it was hard to tell, her eyes seemed to be a bright blue, almost sparking. A boy with sandy blonde hair tugged a smaller blond girl along by the hand. Following them was the largest conagration of monsters Wylie had ever seen. A lightning bolt shot to the ground.

"Zeus?!" Ruby shrieked, before her eyes rolled up into her head. She sunk to the ground. Wylie cursed, but only a few seconds had passed when the child of Iris jerked awake again.

"Go get help," Wylie commanded her. "I'm going to help."

"By yourself?!"

"Not if you go get help." Her companion fled down the hill as rain started to pour, flattening Wylie's unruly bangs to her forehead. Fingers curled around familier leather grips. She let strength from the rain fill her body, then ran. Jumping up, she ricacheyed off a tree branch, lanching herself into the fray.

Wylie landed on the back of a hellhound, dragging her daggers through its flesh. It burst into golden dust and she fell flat on her back. Wylie pushed herself to her feet. She frowned, scanning the horde for the other half-bloods. A scream sounded.

"Found them." She muttered. Wylie ran torwads the sound, but she was too late. While the satyr and other two half-bloods had passed the borders, the daughter of Zeus fell to the horde. As her body fell, the girl was transformed into a large pine tree, standing erect on the hill.

* * *

Gabby awoke. Sitting up, she looked around. She was seated in a comfterable lawn chair, feet and back propped up on pillows. She swung her legs over the side. A tanned hand shot out and gripped her knee, making her head snap upwards. A tall, black haired girl sat next to her.

"Did I make it?" Gabby asked. The blond girl's voice suprised Wylie. It had an odd, sing song sound to it, even though it was horse and strained.

"To Camp, or out alive?"

"Both." Wylie smiled, softly answering a few seconds later.

"Yes." The black haired girl resumed staring into the distance. Gabby frowned, asking her if she was okay. She shook herself, than nodded, saying,

"Yes. I'm sorry, I'm Wylie." Gabby shook the offered hand.

"My name's Gabouray, but Gabby for short." Wylie nodded and smiled fully, though it still seemed tinged with saddness. She must have noticed Gabby's concern, for she pointed over the hills and embarked on an explanation.

"Yesterday, the night before you arrived, three other half-bloods and a satyr came over that hill. One was a daughter of Zeus. She and her companions were closely persued by an enormous horde of monsters. There was no way they would made it, and I presume she realized that. She scarificed herself to allow the others to reach safety. Her father transformed her into that pine tree there. Our borders have grown noticeably stronger already, but it has put me into a...pensive mood." Gabby knew her mouth was open. To be that selfless, to have friends that close...She had always strived for it, even more since discovering her heritage...

"GABBY!" Wylie's shout brought her out of her musings.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Just thinking."

"It's hard not to, when one hears that story." Wylie offered her a hand. Gabby took it, then yelp as she was yanked to her feet with suprising strength.

"Come on," The green eyed girl said, "Let's take you on a tour."

* * *

Gabouray and Wylie soon became attached at the hip. The latter was immeadiently revealed to be a daughter of Apollo, and turned out to be a _horrible_ prankster. The two girls and Lee were partners in crime before even half a year had passed. Between moments, Wylie occasionlly found time to reflect on how grateful she was to be as lucky as she was. So it was in one of these moments, sitting on a hill with Lee and Gabby, that a bird landed on her head. Wylie yelped, toppling backwards. The bird sqawked angrily and flapped into the air. The other two heard prompt cursing from the bottom of the hill.

"Wow, Wylie" Gabby called down, smirking. "You might want to watch that mouth, Greek or not."

"Shut up, Goose Girl!" The miffed reply came. Gabby scowled at the nickname her friend had given her. Wylie came trudging back up the hill. The owl that startled her in the first place hooted balefully, glaring as much as a bird of prey could. Wylie sighed,

"You know, I never did anything to you. Or Athena." The owl nipped at her. "Alright, alright, fine."

"Uh, Wye?" Lee said. "It's got a letter for you." He was right. The avian held out a leg, strapped to which was a thick parchment envolope. Wylie took it carefully, then pulled out a small treat for the bird. It hopped closer and eventually snapped the treat up. Wylie laughed quietly.

"You're a barn owl, correct?" She asked softly. "You _are_ a gorgous owl." The owl hooted again, but happily this time. Lee chuckled.

"When you're done trying to win over the bird, Wye." Both the daughter of Posiedon and the animal of Athena managed to look indignent.

"I was _not_!" The former cried. "I have _always_ loved owls!" Her annoyed expression slipped into a pout. "Until I learned they hated me for no reason. Besides, this one is a beautiful avian." The owl nipped at her again, but gentler this time. Then, it flew off. Wylie hmphed and snatched the parchment letter back out of Lee's hand, looking it over. It was addressed in blue ink.

 _Ms. W. Potter_

 _Leftmost Top Bunk_

 _The 3rd Cabin_

 _Long Island Sound_

 _New York_

"What the actual Hades?" Wylie asked. Lee laughed.

"Yeah, they seem to all be like that. Mine specified the bedroom. I knew one kid-"

"Can I get an explanation?" Wylie demanded. The address unnerved her badly. Perhaps it was because she had lived as a half-blood for nearly three years, but reciving a letter from an unknown place that named the _bed_ she slept in was wracking her nerves badly. Seeming to sense her discomfort, Lee wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey," He whispered. "It's okay. The magic quill addresses them, not the staff. Its okay." Wylie pushed him away. Gabby was snickering. Lee shot her a glare, and she thankfully quieted. Wylie scowled.

"Alright, fine. Lets see what it says." She broke the large, elaborate seal, absentmindedly noting its design. She flipped it open.

 ** _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_**

 ** _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_**

 ** _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_**

 ** _Dear Ms. Potter,_**

 ** _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._**

 ** _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._**

 ** _Yours sincerely,_**

 ** _Minerva McGonagall,_**

 ** _Deputy Headmistress_**

"What does it mean they await my owl?" Wylie asked, tilting her head slightly, though she was watching the owl.

 **(P.S.- I finally figured out how to do those cool little gray lines! Yay! Also, if you have any questions, send them in! I'm _dying_ to talk about Wylie and her future!)**


	4. Diagon Alley

**FlamingStar1, godofall: Here you go! Thank you so much!**

 **Nataly SkyPot: Thank You!**

 **ihatemath: Thanks!**

 **Guest: Yes. I'm sorry, you made me realize his identity isn't really all that clear. He's Lee Jordan, from Harry Potter.**

 **percyjacksonfan135: I guess that depends. I think later on he might witness her doing something particularly Lily like and begin to realize she isn't quite as much like James as he thought. At first, however, she'll remind him even more of James than Harry does, because she's a prankster.**

 **lucy claxton: Thank you!**

 **harryislife: Thank you again! She is actually a lot more of a big sister figure than she seems at the moment, kind of like Harry was. Speaking of which, this seems like it's going to be the most canon compliant of these stories. (Yes, it's going to be a series, but not for a little bit.) She's actually a bit more like Harry than you might think. (For more, see the bottom of the page.) She will have some different friends. Also, I wasn't planning on having her with the Weasley twin. I thought about it, but it didn't seem right.**

"There it is! The Leaky Cauldron. Quite a famous place, actually." Lee said, before starting to fish around in his bag. Wylie raised an eyebrow at the building. It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Lee hadn't pointed it out, Wylie wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Wylie had the most peculiar feeling that only she, Lee and Onyx, who was on her other side, could see it. Before she could mention this, Lee cried out in triumph and steered her inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. The bartender chuckled at them.

"Coming back for another year, Jordan?" Someone in the back asked. "Where's your mother?" Lee smirked, replying,

"On a job in Ireland. Besides, I couldn't pass up the chance to show my best friend around Diagon Ally for the first time." He put a hand on Wylie's shoulder.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Wylie, "is this — can this be —?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Wylie Potter… what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Wylie and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."

Wylie didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Wylie found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Wylie, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"She remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!" Wylie shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"I'm P-p-p-professor Q-Quirrell, Ms. P-P-Potter. I c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Wylie to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Onyx managed to make herself heard over the babble.

"Must get on — lots to buy. Come on, Wylie."

Doris Crockford shook Wylie's hand one last time, and Lee led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Onyx was scowling heavily. She swiped a hand across her throat-to cancel the voice enhancing spell-before turning to glare at Lee. He winced.

"Sorry Wylie. I didn't realize they would swarm you like that." Onyx hit him. "Ouch! What the heck, Declan! I meant that! Ouch! Quit that! Wylie help me!" Wylie laughed.

"Alright, Onyx, you can stop now. Lee's the only one who can get us into Diagon Ally." Onyx hit the poor boy one more time for good measure, then stepped back, pulling a pair of perfectly round glasses out of her bag.

"By the way, Wylie, here are those glasses you asked for. Charmed to counteract the dyslexia and everything."

"Thank you Nyx!" The poor visioned girl gushed. She took the pair already on her face and slipped the magical ones on. Blinking slightly, she looked around. "Thanks so much!" Lee finally found a finely carved piece of wood.

"Wand?"

"Yep." He held the wand up. "Three up...two across..." He tapped the wall three times with his wand.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for a giant, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Lee, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Wylie's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Wylie looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. Onyx harrumphed, grumbling about easier ways to open a door. Wylie rolled her eyes, although she knew her best friend was right.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"You'll need one, Wye" said Lee, "but you gotta have money first."

Wylie wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Wylie's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Wylie heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Wylie had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon….

"Yoohoo! Earth to Wylie! Hello?" Wylie came to attention as Onyx snapped her fingers in her face. "I think we're here." Lee nodded.

"Gringotts. Wizarding bank. Run by goblins."

"Goblins." Wylie repeated disbelievingly. Lee nodded towards the bronze doors. A goblin stood there, clad in a scarlet and gold uniform. He was about a head shorter than Wylie. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Wylie noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"That's lovely." Wylie said. Lee and Nyx both gave her strange looks that became amused as she finished lowly. "Ominous."

"Anyone trying to rob this place would have to be insane."

"Pretty much."

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Wylie, Onyx, and Lee made for the counter.

"Hello, Paizo." Lee greeted a goblin formally. The goblin sighed and looked up.

"Mister Jordan."

"My friend Wylie needs to get some money from her vault."

"And does Ms. Potter have her key?" Lee nudged Wylie, who slid a golden key across the counter. Biting her lip, she watched as Paizo studied it. Finally, he nodded.

"That seems to be in order. Is there anything else you require, Mister Jordan?"

"No thank you, Paizo." Here, Lee said something unintelligible. Whatever it was made Paizo's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and gobins around them to fall silent. With a pleased tone, Paizo replied in the same form before speaking in English again.

"I see your mother taught you well." Lee smiled slightly. "Griphook!" Griphook was yet another goblin

"One more thing, Mister Jordan." Lee turned back to Paizo. "Try to work on your pronunciation. A few of your words were wrong, though you did get your point across." Lee swore very quietly.

Griphook held the door open for them. Wylie, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Wylie tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Wylie's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see what it was, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"What was that?!" Onyx asked Lee. He leaned away from her slightly, calling,

"Gobbledegook."

"You're telling me!" The other female grumbled at Lee's laughter. "Another question, Nyx, would be why is his mother so well known? What does she do?"

"Wizard representative to the Goblins. That how I know- okay fine, that's how I almost know how to say a salutation in Gobbledegook, which, by the way is the language of the Goblins." The cart jerked to a stop beside a small door. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Wylie gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze ones.

"All yours," smiled Lee.

All Wylie's — it was incredible. This entire time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London?

Lee helped Wylie pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough.

"That right there should be enough for a few school years." He turned to Griphook. "Back up now please."

Lee directed her and Onyx around Diagon Alley for the rest of the morning. First robes for all three of them-Onyx claimed she might need them some day- then parchment and quills, books, and potions supplies. Finally-

"Wand!" Onyx winced.

"Geez, MOA, not so loud." Wylie glared at her friend for the nickname.

"Giglet."

"WHAT!?" Lee sighed as his companions began arguing good-naturedly. Putting a hand on each one's shoulder, he guided them towards the wand shop. By the time they got there, both had quieted down and were letting Lee show them way. The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders:

Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair. Wylie felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. She vaguely noticed that Onyx had gone still at her side

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Wylie jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello."

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Wylie Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand.

Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Wylie.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Wylie were almost nose to nose. Wylie could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Wylie's forehead with a long, white finger. Onyx began to make a low growling sound in her throat.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" He spotted Lee, and started speaking eagerly to him about his wand. Wylie slowly looked at Onyx. The daughter of Hecate was glaring daggers at Mr. Ollivander. Wylie put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head slightly. Onyx scowled, but reluctantly relaxed.

"Well, now — Ms. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Wylie.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Wylie from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Wylie suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Wylie took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Wliey tried — but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Wylie tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Wylie took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Lee whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"

He put Wylie's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"What's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Wylie with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar." Wylie swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

* * *

 **By the way, 2898 words! Almost five pages!**

 **Okay, here we go. I've been waiting for this. Snape and Wylie's relationship... I'm honestly not quite sure how it will just yet. I know at first, he'll be surprised, if only at her memory. Then things will probably go downhill. Wylie's main motivation for pranking at Hogwarts will be revenge or getting attention for something she feels she's actually done and worked for, which mean lots of pranks. Which is something extremely reminiscent of James. He might come to see the Lily in her later, though.**

 **Wylie is** **actually a bit more like Harry than you might think, without the tendency towards anger. That has been replaced with impulsiveness. She's obviously much more playful and scheming than his was.**

 **And on that note, I have one more announcement! I am now open to and asking for votes as to what House Wylie should be in. There may or may not be an actual poll on my profile, but please feel absolutely free to vote in the reviews.**


	5. Journey From Nine and Three Quarters

**HELP! PLEASE look at the bottom for more information!**

 **Anyway, reviews:**

 **TheSilverDragon360: Thank you so much! I'm sorry it took so long.**

 **harryislife: Thanks! You're the only one who's answered my question.**

 **ProudlyANoob: That would be funny, but she is still a genderbent Harry. However, you are the reason for her new nickname in this chapter!**

 **Nataly SkyPot: I always have trouble spelling your name! Did I get it right? Anyway, thank you!**

 **god of all: Thank you!**

* * *

People rushed around Wylie, the sound not at all helping her confusion . It was 10:30 at King's Cross, she'd lost Lee, and had absolutely no idea how to get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. A group of people passed just behind her and she caught what they were saying.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

Wylie swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Wylie's in front of him. They stopped.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small red head girl who was holding her hand, "Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Wylie watched, but just as he reached the barrier between the platforms, a large crowd swarmed in front of him and the boy vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called for him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because he too was soon gone.

Now the third boy was walking toward the barrier. He was almost there when, suddenly, he wasn't. Finally, she had had enough.

"JORDAN!" She screeched at the top of her lungs. The people closest to her stopped and started slightly. She didn't care, yelling her friend's last name again. This time, she spotted him shoving his way through the crowd.

"Oh gods, Coyote. Don't ever do that again." Wylie flushed, realizing he thought she was in trouble.

"Sorry." He sighed and nudged her slightly, nodding to the barrier. She started to walk forward. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. Wylie walked quicker. She was going to smash into the barrier and then she'd be in trouble — she broke into a run — the barrier was coming nearer — she wouldn't be able to stop — she was a foot away — she closed her eyes, ready for the crash —

It didn't come.

She kept on running, then stopped and opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a crowed platform. A sign overhead said Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock. Wylie looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. She'd done it!

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the crowd, while cats wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another over babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Wylie pushed her cart off down the platform in search of a seat. She passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," She heard the old woman sigh.

Lee appeared beside her, grinning. She sighed.

"I wish Nyx could be here." Her voice was wistful as they began walking towards the train. "She would love it."

"She probably would, wouldn't she?"

"You _know,_ you two _could try_ to get along."

"We do get along! We're just not that close. Besides, she's always hitting on me." Snickering slightly, Wylie repeated his words back to him. His eyes went wide.

"Not like _that_!" She laughed heartily. A disgruntled Lee shoved her before wandering off to see some of his friends. Wylie pushed through the crowd and onto the train. Finding a compartment in the back, she attempted to lift her trunk up the steps. Finally, she put her back to the wall and groaned in frustration.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins she had seen in the station.

"Yes, please," Wylie panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Wylie's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Wylie. Then, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum." The twins hopped off the train. Wylie sat in the window seat.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

Wylie looked out the window. Their mother was rubbing the end of the youngest boy's nose.

"Shut up," said Ronnie.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Wylie noticed a red and gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once —"

"Or twice —"

"A minute —"

"All summer —"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother. "All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there." She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or —"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum." Wylie snickered at that.

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ronnie again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it. The family continued talking until the train's whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. Their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts' toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train began to move. Wylie watched the mother, young girl, and station disappear behind the corner, and felt a great rush of excitement. _Magic._ The door slid open. Lee stepped in grinning, most likely from showing off his pet spider. The red-haired twins were behind him. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes, I know. 'Gandalf, you're late!'" She laughed.

"I wasn't going to call you call you Gandalf, but yes, Lee, you're late." She cocked her head at the other boys as they came in and sat down. "Who're they?"

"Ah, yes." Lee nodded, then turned to the twins. "Fred, George, this is the friend I was telling you about-Wylie Potter. Wylie, these are my friends Fred and George Weasley."

"Are you really?" One asked. Wylie felt her cheeks turning red, but said yes anyway. Suddenly, the other turned to Lee.

"Oi, Jordan, is she the one who put all the chicken in the showers?"

"Yep." Wylie laughed as Fred and George began chattering about various pranks they had and hoped to pull. Eventually, at around half past twelve, there was a clattering from the hall. A smiling woman opened the door, asking,

"Anything off the cart, dears?" Wylie looked to the others. Lee nodded and stood up with her. Fred shook his head.

"No thanks." He said

"Besides," George continued. "We haven't got anything on us anyway."

"And if we did, we brought sandwiches." Lee and Wylie went out into the corridor. Lee nudged her. He tilted his head back towards the compartment.

"I'm going to get them something anyway," He muttered. "The sandwiches usually get mixed up in transportation." She nodded. Between them, they ended up with a little bit of everything.

"Hungry, aren't you?" George laughed.

"Starving!" Wylie replied cheerfully, plopping back into her seat with a Pumpkin Pasty. Fred and George had begun unwrapping packages. Simultaneously, they groaned. Lee held out his hands to Wylie as if to say, _See? I told you._ She sighed.

"Here," She said, tossing them both pasties. "Have some." It was nice, the four of them eating through the pile of pasties, cakes, and candies.

"What are these?" Wylie asked, holding some Chocolate Frogs. "They're not actually frogs, are they?" She was starting to that feel nothing could surprise her anymore.

"No, but see who the card is. We're missing Hengist of Woodcroft." George said.

"What?"

"Muggle raised, guys." Lee sighed.

"Oh, right. Well you see-"

"Chocolate Frogs have collectible cards included-"

"Each depicts a famous witch or wizard and information about them."

"We've got about five hundred total-"

"But we're still missing Hengist." George finished. Wylie stared, her mouth open. Finally, she turned to Lee.

"Do they always do that?" She asked. Lee snorted.

"Almost always, yes." She ran a hand down her face, groaning,

"They're worse than Travis and Conner." Lee laughed at the mention of his little brothers. Wylie unwrapped her Frog. The card showed a man with half-moon glasses, a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair. Underneath was the name Albus Dumbledore. Wylie turned over the card and read:

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

 _Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindlewald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Turning the card over, Wylie was shocked to find that Dumbledore had disappeared.

"Oh by the way," Lee said offhandedly, "Wizarding portraits move." She glared at him.

" _Thanks,_ Lee."

"You're welcome." Wylie watched Dumbledore slide back onto the card and smile. Later, she finally tore her eyes away from the enchanted cards to grab a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Now _those_ were fun to eat. The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Wylie had seen came in, looking tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Wylie.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…" He left. Lee and Wylie's ensuing argument over whether or not she controlled toads was interrupted by the door opening again. The toadless boy was back with a girl who was already wearing Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. There were negative answers all around.

When the compartment door slid open _again_ , three boys entered.

"Is it true?" The middle one asked. "They're saying all down the train that Wylie Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes."

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle, and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Wylie suppressed a snort, James Bond instantly coming to mind. A snigger from Fred told her he had been less successful in the endeavor.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Wylie's head snapped up, all humor gone. _Low blow, Malfoy._ Turning back to Wylie, the pale boy continued,

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand, but Wylie didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," She said coldly. A pink tinge appeared in Draco Malfoy's pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either." Fred, George, and Wylie stood up. Fred opened his mouth to say something, but Wylie beat him to it.

"Say that again." She hissed lowly. Before anyone could respond, she took a step forward. Malfoy stepped backward, as if he could feel her fury. "I'm serious. _Say it again._ " Lee's hand caught her arm.

" _Wylie._ " Lee voice held warning, but she was too angry to heed it. She was about to -, when Goyle suddenly screamed. A rat was hanging off his finger by its teeth, having launched itself out of the remaining pile of sweets. Crabbe and Malfoy backed away even more as Goyle swung around, howling, and when the rat finally flew off, they all three disappeared. Wylie figured they had heard footsteps, for a moment later, Hermione had come back in. She looked at the sweets on the floor, Wylie being half restrained by Lee, and George picking the rat up off the floor.

"What has been going on?" She asked.

"Scabbers." George said, after inspecting the rat. He tossed it to Fred. In response to inquiring looks, he continued. "Our little brother Ron's pet rat."

"He's a first year too, so you'll probably see him at the boats. Would you mind giving him back for us?" Fred asked. Wylie nodded.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us!" Wylie blew out a breath and flopped back into her seat. Hermione left.

The train stopped. People pushed onto a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over heads, and Wylie heard a voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Following the sound, she saw a large man calling for them to follow him. He led them through thick trees to a lake.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," He called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

"Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened onto a lake. Perched on a mountain on the other side, windows sparkling, was a castle with many towers. At the man's instruction, they all climbed into boats. Spotting the twins' brother, she quickly dropped the rat into his hands. She had _never_ liked rats.

The boats carried them across the water on their own. As they got out, she was glad to see Neville retrieve his toad. They climbed a passage, coming out right next the castle. They walked up stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak door. Their guide raised a fist and knocked thrice on the door.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for waiting! My question is serious, guys. PLEASE answer. To avoid long breaks like that, I could write up a few chapters in advance, so I'd always have some in stock. However, that would require a long break for me to write. The options are a)Keep going as I have been, writing and posting as I go, which would most likely result in more of these for the remainder of the story, which I intend to take to the end of Heroes Of Olympus, or b) Take an even longer break to write at least 3 chapters, but be able to post regularly afterwards. Also, could I get some more House suggestions?**


	6. The Sorting Hat

**I'm so sorry for the wait. I do actually have a reason, and it's one that plagues internet writers everywhere: My computer was broken. I'm completely serious right now, it wouldn't turn on. At all. But anyway, I'm here now, so I need to answer some reviews!**

 **Hikara Nova: Did I spell your name right? I'm really worried that I didn't. Well, either way, thank you for your input. It really helped.**

 **ProudlyANoob: Thank you for telling me, though I'm a little confused. How else would you introduce a nickname, other than going to the character's house? Anyway, I thank you for your input as well. I read all my reviews, and having more than just one person offer advice is super helpful. So thank you too!**

 **Nataly SkyPot: I think I'm actually getting better with your name! Either that or I spelled it wrong again. Oh well. I'm an optimist until I'm talking about myself. I really do appreciate your encouragement. Even just the 'muy buenos' you give can make my day.**

 **Faery66: This wasn't exactly soon, and I know that, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

 **god of all: I just noticed your profile picture. Geez, I can't focus during these, can I? *sigh* I** _am_ **glad that you're still liking my story, though. Every person gives me the warm fuzzes, especially those who review!**

* * *

 **Okay guys. I need to say this. Originally, I was going to ask your opinion, but I've decided that I'm going to do what makes me happy with this story, because it is mine, not yours. And I realized, that if I lose readership, I won't really care. You guys honestly have no idea how big of a step that is for me. Here goes:**

 **There will be poly relationships in this story. There will be LGBTQ2+ characters and relationships in this story. There will be all types of inclusion in this story. (FYI, I was only going to ask your opinion on the first one. Nobody can stop me from the other two. Deal with it.)If you don't like that, then guess what? There is a back button. There are links. They exist for a reason. Use them. If you leave any negative reviews because of this topic, I will simply delete your commentary and move on with my life.**

 **As if nothing really matters**

* * *

The door opened immediately, and a tall, black-haired woman stood there. The first thought to cross Wylie's prankster mind was that this woman was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Professor McGonagall lead them all off to the side of a large, noisy door.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The banquet will begin shortly, but before you take a seat, you will be sorted into your houses. This is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be like a family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. Each of the four houses have noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you points, and any rule breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most is awarded the house cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to whatever becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered on Neville's cloak, and Ron's smudged nose. Wylie tried to flatten her unruly hair, despite knowing by now that it was hopeless.

"I shall return when we are ready for you." said Professor McGonagall. She left.

"How _do_ they sort us?" Wylie whispered to Ron, one of the only nearby people she knew.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred says it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Wylie hummed, not sure of how to respond. Of course, there was always nervousness, but she wasn't exactly a stranger to pain. Then, the first part of the sentence sunk in. Everyone seemed to share her anxiousness, as no one was talking but Hermione, and even her rapid whispering was dripping with nerves. Personally, Wylie was sure she hadn't been this nervous in a while, not even when she'd had to explain to Chiron that she'd somehow managed to turn her tutor blue.

A sudden chill descended upon the room. Someone screamed, and Wylie felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise as reflexes tugged at her muscles. Several ghosts streamed through one of the walls. Pearly-white and translucent, they were arguing about... something.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us a bad name, and he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

No one answered.

"New students!" said the Friar, smiling. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded. _Don't notice me._

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts reluctantly floated away.

"Now, form a line, and follow me."

Hogwart's Great Hall was nothing like Wylie had ever seen. Thousands of candles were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden goblets and plates.

At the front of the hall was another table where the teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there, so that they came to a halt facing the other students. Dotted among them were the ghosts, shining misty silver. Wylie looked upward and saw a velvety black expanse flecked with stars. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all.

Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of the first years, and a ragged wizard's hat atop it. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched, and began to sing.

* * *

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"And you believed him?" Wylie wanted to snark. She held her tongue, however, for at that moment, Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, this time holding a long piece of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.

A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forward, put on the too large hat, and sat down.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The table on the right cheered as she went to sit down. The Friar ghost waved her over merrily.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to the first girl. "Brown, Lavender" joined Gryffindor.

Wylie noticed that sometimes, the hat shouted out at once, but others took a while to decide on. "Finnigan, Seamus,"sat on the stool for almost a whole minute.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione ran to the stool and jammed the hat on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned. Wylie scowled at him.

When Neville was called, he fell over on his way to the stool, and the hat took a long time to decide. When it finally shouted, "Gryffindor," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter.

When Malfoy swaggered forward, he got his wish; the hat almost instantly screamed the green clad table's name. Malfoy went to join his friends, looking pleased.

The rest passed quickly until-

"Potter, Wylie!"

Whispers suddenly broke out. The hat was too big for Wylie too, entirely obscuring the hall full of people.

"Hmm," said a voice in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either, but you favor your heart, greatly so. There's scheming, and sneakiness, yes, but they are not your main traits. You are loyal to a fault, and hardworking, but not the most patient. Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, where should I put you?"

* * *

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming, as if nothing could please him more than just being there.

"Welcome," he said, "to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down.

"Is he...mad?" Wylie asked hesitantly.

"Mad?" Percy answered airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes?"

Wylie stared. The dishes were now piled. She had never seen so much food at once, not even at Camp Half-Blood.

"I haven't eaten for five hundred years," a ghost said sadly. "I don't need to, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began, but Seamus Finnigan cut him off.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

"Like this," Sir Nicholas said irritably. He pulled his left ear, and his whole head fell off. Seeming pleased with their reactions, Nearly Headless Nick continued.

"So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost." A ghost with blank eyes, gaunt face, and silver stained robes was floating right next to a certain Draco Malfoy.

As Wylie helped herself to tarts and began to feel sleepy, she looked at the High Table again. Professor Quirrell was talking to someone, and-

"AH!"

Burning pain spread across Wylie's forehead.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" She asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already? No wonder he's so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape." Snape didn't look at her again.

Unfortunately, the desserts too eventually disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore stood once again.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's eyes flashed towards the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Percy frowned.

"That's odd, he usually gives a reason why we're not allowed — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. A very... _interesting_ song and poltergeist later, the new Gryffindors stood before a portrait of a woman in a pastel pink dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled through as best they could, and found a cozy room full of squashy looking armchairs.

Percy directed the girls to their dormitory and the boys to another. At the top of a spiral staircase, they found their beds at last: four-posters draped with red velvet curtains. Thankfully, their trunks had already been brought up, since they were all too tired to even talk. Wylie fell into bed.

"Great food." Someone muttered. Wylie fell asleep almost at once, and had a _very_ strange dream. Even by her standards. It involved a talking turban, Malfoy, Snape, and lots of green light, but when she woke in the morning, she didn't remember it at all.

* * *

 **Important notice guys! I will be going back and editing the previous chapters. Don't worry, I won't be changing the story at all, so you don't have to go back and read them again if you don't want to. I'll just be making it so chapters 4 and 5 are more my words, less copy and paste. I will try to update those chapters on the same days that I post new ones, so that you don't think you're getting a new chapter when you're really not. I know that can be disappointing. That is all! Have a great holiday season and rest of the year!**


	7. School Can Suck, but Also Rule

**Reviews:**

 **godofall: Thank you once again! You were actually the only one who reviewed this chapter. Even my other regular reviewers (who I appreciate so, _so_ , much,) haven't stopped by yet. I'm actually rather surprised. But anyway, here's another update for you!**

* * *

 **By the way, I said last chapter that I would be editing 4 & 5\. Turns out I _cannot_ do that, so I'll just have to leave them as is. Enjoy!**

* * *

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the dread-locked hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

Whispers sounded in the halls as soon as Wylie left her dorm room, and she had a sneaking suspicion that they'd been going on long before that, too. People stood on tiptoe to stare over their classmates' heads, or doubled back in the corridors.

It was tiresome.

And very, _very,_ annoying.

"Honestly!" She found herself complaining to Lee later that day. "You'd think they'd have better things to do!" Lee chuckled, having heard this exact rant before, whenever someone made a big deal of her parentage at camp. Ignoring her friend's utterly unsympathetic attitude, the daughter of Poseidon continued. "I mean, there are what, a hundred stairs?"

"A hundred and forty-two." Lee idly corrected.

"-Moving portraits, doors that won't open, doors that aren't even actually _doors_ -"

"And the stairs move." Lee pointed out.

"Exactly!" She cried, flinging out her arms in the direction of one of the aforementioned staircases that had just begun to shift, at least five students still standing there as it did. "All very interesting things! But _noooo_! This _one person_ -"

Lee simply shook his head fondly. He knew better than to try to interrupt his partner in crime when she was like this. Nodding to the ghosts and saluting Peeves as they walked through the halls, the most he could do was steer her in the direction of the Great Hall.

Similar thoughts stewed in Wylie's head for the rest of the week, only truly subsiding in her classes. There was a lot more than she had expected. Wednesday brought with it Astronomy classes at midnight, thrillingly cold moments spent peering at the planets and stars through beautifully crafted spyglasses that she would have sworn were vintage.

Triweekly trips to the back of the school introduced them to flora of the Wizarding World. At times, her head swam from the fumes, the uses, the names- but when she was elbow deep in dirt, surrounded by the happy chatter of Professor Sprout's house, she couldn't make herself care.

Professor McGonagall taught Transfiguration. Wylie's first impression seemed to be turning out correct. Professor McGonagall was stern, strict, clever, and waited all of two seconds before making it absolutely clear that under no circumstances would any trouble making be tolerated. Despite the fundamental difference in their personalities, Wylie couldn't help but like the woman. Seriously. She'd tried.

Unfortunately, not all of her classes could claim the same. History of Magic, while interesting on the surface, was taught by a ghost who Wylie could safely say was the absolute most _boring_ teacher she had ever had. Professor Binns had been a rather elderly professor who simply left his body and continued on with his job, without even realizing he was dead. This wasn't what made him a bad teacher, however. No, it was the truly astonishing fact that he managed to read everything in a complete monotone, able to make even the most studious of teens fall fast asleep at their desks. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been one of the classes she was really looking forward to as well, being a bit of a marital arts geek. Instead, Professor Quirrell conducted his class with all the vigor of the vampire he was supposedly protecting himself from. Wylie swore up and down that she'd never go near garlic again. At least, not for a while.

However, for all of the disappointment those two brought, her first Potions class had to take the cake.

* * *

"Ah, yes. Wylie Potter. Our new — celebrity." That was Snape's first mistake. After a full week of being treated like some sort of _deity_ , she was in no mood for more. Things only got worse from there.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without any effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

 _Oh, yes, I'm sure that makes everyone feel much better,_ Wylie snarked internally. She had been jolted from the entrancing speech by the petty insult. _It's not like you're lowering their self-esteem or anything._ Her train of thought screeched to a stop when Snape whirled around suddenly to face her.  
"Potter!" he said. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Wylie's mind raced. _Fields of Asphodel. Wormwood? Worm wood._ As suddenly as Snape had asked the question, she remembered. It probably wasn't the correct answer, but it was better than nothing at all.

"A potion that imbues certain objects and materials with the ability to predict lifespans?" She replied uncertainly. He looked taken aback by her answer.

"Not the answer I was looking for," He finally admitted. "But not incorrect. What you're thinking of, Potter, is the Foreboding Decoction of Forbidden Death. Ridiculous name, but it requires the _petals_ of an asphodel. The Draught of Living Death is one of deep sleep, and is made with powdered root.

Let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Wylie perked up at this one. She had been repeatedly told the answer to it since she had arrived at Camp Half-Blood.

"The stomach of a..." _Dammit!_

"A is for atropine, n is for nil, t for the one that makes all lie still..." She muttered to herself.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Wylie held up a finger to shush the blond Slytherin as she continued to hum.

"...and s is to cure them all, the stomach of a goat!" She finished proudly. Many of her classmates were looking at her strangely by this point, but none more so than the professor himself. Snape simply stared at her with an expression of complete befuddlement.

"Professor?" She asked carefully. He quickly blinked and shook his head, immediately regaining his composure. Finally, he asked one last question.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," Wylie said, a smirk rapidly beginning to form on her previously defeated visage. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Professor Snape was not amused.

* * *

 **I know, shorter chapter than usual. Oh well! I hope you like what I did what the Potions class in this chapter. I wanted to have something a little different form the original, but not have Wylie just knowing the answer, like I've seen so many others do. So here, she hears Asphodel and wormwood, and remembers a potion she tripped across in Onyx's books once. A demigod potion, yes, but as she says, _it's better than nothing._**

 **By the way, Happy New Year's everyone! I really enjoyed writing the descriptions for the Transfiguration, Herbology, and Astronomy classes. I was also rather pleased with the 'vigor of the vampire' line there.**

 **As a side note, I know many of you have asked for canon divergence. (Especially my correspondent, harryislife. I ended up making Wylie a Gryffindor for plot's sake, but your input was still very important. I'm very grateful!) This story _will_ be canon divergent eventually, but not for a little while. Things will not truly start going off the canon rails until at least the end of the third book. Goblet of Fire will be when it really starts.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
